


The Worst Part of You

by brightbulbs



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Hospitalization, M/M, NPP Universe, Sick!Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbulbs/pseuds/brightbulbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian loves every part of Mickey - well, almost every part of Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Part of You

**Author's Note:**

> Got this idea from amandaskankovich! 
> 
> I set it in the Normal People Problems Universe where Ian and Mickey are living together and getting married, but you don't necessarily have to read Normal People Problems to read this. 
> 
> It's a little different, but I hope it's suitable !

Mickey’s naked legs were being hoisted upward to rest at Ian’s hips, firmly gripped at the thighs in the other man’s hands, when he felt it – a twinge of pain in his right side, dull just below his belly button. Maybe he’d pulled something in their late night fervor. Fuck, it was worth it though, Mickey smiled lazily remembering how he’d been spread wide.  

Light poured into the room, shining on Mickey’s face. He turned his face to the side in irritation, eyes squinting, revealing his pale neck which glowed in the early morning sun. Mickey blinked away the remnants of morning daze, and yawned. Ian was grinning above him.

“You offering?”

“Go ahead”

Ian leaned down to peck his cheek, and kissed along his jawline until he reached his ear. He hesitated for a moment, his warm breath tickling Mickey’s skin. “Love this body”

“Mm-hmn. Okay”

“Love every inch of it, Mick.”

“Right…”

Ian nipped and licked at his exposed neck, as his fingers traveled northward to dig into the smaller man’s sides. “Love this neck.” It elicited a low approving groan from the man, and being pleased with himself, he pulled Mickey forward in one quick move so that his ass was now flush against him. “Love these-”

“Ah!” A jolt of pain hit Mickey, and he arched his back off the bed painfully. His thighs tensed and squeezed against Ian’s sides.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You okay?” It was annoying how he apologized for everything. Mickey willed himself to relax, closing his eyes and letting out a huff.

“I’m fine. Just think I pulled something.”   

“Where?”

“Here” Mickey sighs, his hand rubbed over his entire lower right side. Ian prodded the area of Mickey’s abdomen with the tips of his fingers until Mickey yelped when his fingers poked below his naval.

“Looks like your iliopsoas.”

“Can I get a fucking translation?” This is what you get when you encourage your fiancé to go back to school for physical therapy. Fucking gibberish.

“You pulled the muscle here” Ian deadpans, rubbing the area with the palm of his hand. “You think you’re gonna make it?”

“Yeah, get on me.” Mickey smirked. “…but go slow.”

.

“Want some pancakes.” Ian spooned a few onto a plate and set a place for Mickey, just in case. Mickey just shook his head and rubbed his side again.

“They’re your favorite. It’s got fresh cut bananas too.”

“Nah, not hungry.”

Okay, well that was a little odd. Mickey has never denied a good breakfast, but Ian shrugged it off for the moment, digging into his own stack of pancakes. Mickey sat down across from him with a cup of orange juice in hand. He sipped it slowly and winced as he straightened his back, feeling the now familiar pull of his muscle.

Ian tensed, and watched him closely, looking for further signs of distress.

It was a gut reaction to his fiancé’s pain, and it was becoming more obvious to everyone they knew.  Mandy jokingly referred to it as ‘the Mickey reflex,’ thinking it somewhat sweet. Embarrassing, is what it was.  

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“That thing you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing a thing.”

“Yeah.” Mickey said, raising his glass of juice to his lips. “You fuckin’ are.”

Ian raised his hands defensively and went back to cutting up his pancakes with a fork. He didn’t mean to hover, it was just… **_instinctual_** – though Debbie has assured him that instinctual “mate guarding” isn’t an actual thing, but a sexist social construct bolstered by pseudoscience and that his overwhelming need to protect could be viewed as demeaning. Mickey had no idea what she said, but it sounded good and he gave his favorite ‘in-law’ a high five.

“Maybe I just ate something.” Mickey rubbed his side still, slipping his hand underneath his hoodie. “Feel full, and not the good kind of full.”

“Debs _did_ make you try like six flavors of cake yesterday, so-”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

Mickey’s stomach turned. It all tasted good – chocolate, vanilla, carrot, pumpkin, lemon, banana – Debbie made samples in every flavor, insisting she’d bake their wedding cake for them. They compromised on the banana. Thinking about it now though made him nauseous.

“I’m gonna go lay down.”

.

Five hours later, Ian shook the sleeping man awake. He looked paler than before, if that was possible. “Mickey!”

“Hmn? What.” Mickey's eyes snapped open, and he attempted to roll onto his back after sleeping on his side. A chill ran through his body, and he shivered slightly. 

“I’ve been calling you for like five minutes, you good to eat now?”

The move from laying on his side hurt like hell, rendering him unable to answer. His eyes stung with tears, and he bit his lip. Finally settling flat onto his back, he whined pathetically at the sharp stabbing pain. His hands clutched at his lower belly and he tried to sit up more, but Ian urged him to lie back. 

"Shit, you look-" Ian rested the back of his hand on Mickey's forehead and felt the heat there. "Mick, I think we should go to the hospital. You're burning up."

"No. No, we don't need to-ah! ow." Mickey hissed and his feet kicked out as he lay in discomfort, any sudden movement causing the sharp pains to worsen. They weren't going away, no matter how hard he willed them to, but god damn it he hated hospitals.

"F-fine. Help me up."

Making it down the stairs was the worst part, each step jarring him sending shock waves from his middle outward. Ian stood a step behind him, hands on both sides of him, steadying him. Getting into the passenger seat of the car sucked too, but once inside he relaxed into the seat cushion and closed his eyes. Ian slid into the driver's seat, placing a bag full of clothes in the back seat just in case they had to stay over a couple days. He eyed Mickey's pained face, and despite having his eyes closed, he could feel Ian's stare. 

"Stop."

"What?"

"That fucking thing you're doing!" Mickey shuddered out violently, losing his temper. He regretted the action immediately, clutching his side again. It didn't ease Ian's worries either, and the more he thought about it the more certain he knew what it was that was ailing his cranky feverish lover. 

"Umm, I think the iliopsoas is near your appendix." Ian said in a careful voice, not wanting to irritate him further. "You might have appendicitis."

"Wha-?" Mickey's face scrunched up, panting through a wave of pain. 

"Okay, well. Did you ever watch that show Sister Sister growing up?" 

"Yeah, of course I fuckin' watched it."

Ian continued to drive down the road, trying not to speed. After stealing a glance at Mickey and seeing his flushed face, It was tempting. 

"Alright, remember the episode where they woke up in the middle of the night and they were like 'ah my fuckin' side is hurting' or whatever and they had to be rushed to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Well that's appendicitis."

"Fuck. I don't want them cutting me open." Mickey whined. "Turn around. Turn the fucking car around, maybe it'll die down."

"No." Ian was firm. "No, if you don't get it checked out it could burst and you could die."

Mickey pouted beside him, leaning back in his seat again and gulping. He still had nightmares about Ned digging that bullet out of his ass cheek. Surgery was not something he was looking forward to.

"Relax, okay." Ian tried to reassure him. "It's all minimally invasive stuff now. You're not gonna come out looking like Frankenstein's Monster. The scars will be so tiny like-" 

"Just shut up."

.

The first thing Mickey notices when he opens his eyes are the bright lights and the fact that he's in a hospital gown. Something soft and warm is brushing his hand soothingly, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's a man's thumb. 

"...'eh" Mickey croaks out, and the man smiles contently, petting his arm.

"Hey yourself." 

"I think I know you." Mickey blinks a few times, caught in a post-anesthesia daze. He tries to sit up, but the man pushes him back down. "Don't move too much, okay?"

"...'ere do I know ya from?" Mickey slurs. The man beside him laughs at him. Just fucking laughs at him. What a punk. A good looking punk, he noted, taking in the man's features.

"I'm your fiance, Mick"

"What? No shit."

"Yes" The man went back to petting his arm. He wasn't gonna lie, it felt real good.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why you... my fiance."

The man's jaw opened and closed, and he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Mickey stared at him like a zombie, waiting for an answer. Who the fuck would ever want to marry him? - he thought, the very idea of that was fucking laughable.

"Well..." The man finally began. " _Like I told you this morning_ , I love every part of you. Well, except for the worst part of you."

"What? What's the worst part?"  

"Your appendix, which you don't have to worry about anymore since you got it removed."

Mickey attempted to sit up again, and looked down at his stomach. He did feel a little bit of soreness there. Before he could sit up straight, the man pushed him down again advising him to get some sleep. He closed his eyes as the man pulled several blankets over him and kissed his forehead.

.

"Debs, it's not your fault." Ian assured over the phone. Mickey rolled his eyes. "No. No seriously. No, it was not food poisoning. Yes, I will. Okay. Bye."

Ian tapped 'end call,' and brought a tray of breakfast food over to the couch. There were no complications, and Mickey's surgery went well. His fever went down dramatically, before disappearing altogether and he was released from the hospital in a matter of a couple days.

"How you feeling?"

"Other than pissed at the fact that we can't bang for another week, I'm fine." Mickey complained, taking a plate of pancakes off the tray and proceeding to cover it in syrup. "Who the fuck even needs an appendix? I hate that shit."

Ian grabbed his food off the tray, and dug in. He shook his head, remembering Mickey's temporary drug-induced amnesia and how he'd wished he recorded it on his phone so he could show Mickey. He'll remember it though, even if Mickey wont, and he'll tell him every day what he told him then. _I love every part of you, except..._

"Yeah, I hate it too."  

 

 


End file.
